Visit to Morocco creates new perspective
By Ryan Groshong
RABAT, Morocco -- It's not everyday that you see a 6-foot-7-inch American like me wandering the streets of a crowded marketplace of an Islamic country, trying to greet people with the standard "Al salaam a'alaykum," and failing miserably every time.
But last weekend, that's exactly where I found myself. As part of my study abroad program in Granada, Spain, I got the opportunity to visit the Islamic nation of Morocco, touring the country, staying with a Moroccan family and meeting Moroccan students.
In the span of these four unforgettable days, I rode a camel along a beach, visited historical sites of Roman ruins, attempted to eat the national food of couscous using only my hand -- with painful results -- and managed to develop a crippling addiction to sweet mint Moroccan tea.
But the highlight of my trip was the opportunity to meet and interact with the people of Morocco like my host brother, Hassan, who was born with a disability that made it difficult for him to walk. And yet in spite of his disability, this past August, he swam 13 kilometers in the Atlantic Ocean using only a butterfly stroke.
In addition to Hassan's athletic achievements, he is also an advocate for athletic opportunities for people of both genders with disabilities.
"Sport is for everyone," he told me, beaming with pride as he recalled the accomplishments of his friends.
And then there are people like Hassan's mother, who prepared more delicious food for me than I could ever dream of eating, an accomplishment which my own mother back home will tell you is very difficult.
She spoke only the local dialect, but the genuine tone in her voice and the loving look on her face as she gave us all a blessing and asked us to return someday made Hassan's English translation almost unnecessary.
Then there was Hassan's nephew Muhammad, a 1-and-a-half-year-old who wore a big grin on his face as he played with my Livestrong wristband and cell phone, and marveled at my monstrous shoes.
Another child I met, also named Muhammad, was 9-years-old and lived in the mountain village where our group ate lunch during our last day.
He was shy at first, but that soon faded as we started to play soccer, and this mini-Ronaldinho began to break my ankles repeatedly as a crowd of people stood around laughing. Little punk.
Even just being in a crowd of strangers, the hospitality and kindness of Moroccans was irrepressible.
"Bonjour! Hola! Hello!" people would call out as we walked along the street, greeting us in every Western language they knew.
One night in a pool hall, a guy walked straight up to me, held out his hand, and said in a perfect American accent "What's crackalackin?' " I heard the phrase "This is your country," more times than I can count.
Despite only being in the city of Rabat for slightly more than 48 hours, three different people told me that I could come and stay with them if I ever returned. And each time they did, I hoped more and more that one day I would be able to.
This trip did not make me an expert on Morocco, Islam, international relations or anything of the sort.
What it did do, however, was give me a new set of images to associate with words like "Arab," or "Middle East."
No longer will I be able to see media images of Osama bin Laden, or the war in Iraq, without also seeing the big plate of food we shared on our last night as we broke the Ramadan fast with the family, or the smile on Muhammad's face as he beat me with the soccer ball for the 20th time.
This experience reminded me that despite how it may seem on the 6 o'clock news, maybe the world isn't such a scary place after all. It made our differences seem a little bit less daunting and a better, peaceful future seem a little more possible.
Someday I do hope to return to Morocco, where the spirit of hospitality and friendliness was contagious. And maybe, just maybe, I'll figure out how to pronounce "Al salaam a'alaykum."
Ryan Groshong is studying abroad in Granada, Spain for the fall of 2006. Contact him at rgroshong@scu.edu.